Chapter Six
Addam and I stare at Thelma.
Mr. Sullivan clears his throat, the posture of a man who just got caught being human in front of teenagers.
“I’m Drake,” he says.
Addam and I trade a look.
“Oh,” I manage.
“You can call me Drake outside the classroom,” he adds quickly. “Just not during class. I don’t need students thinking that’s a thing.”
“How long have you two been locking lips?” I ask.
Drake’s mouth twitches with amusement as he looks at Thelma. “Since last summer.”
I blink slowly. “Are you coming on our road trip?”
“More than likely,” Thelma chirps.
The universe, which hates peace, chooses that moment to drop Anderson into the library.
“Looks like I would’ve owed money if I bet against you showing up,” I mutter.
“Let’s get this interview bullshit over with,” he growls.
I lift an eyebrow. “First, you will not growl at me.”
He glares.
“Second,” I continue, “Ms. Morgan said I can interview Addam instead. You can interview Meghan.”
His face actually does that baffled error-screen thing.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
I shrug. “Take it up with the universe.”
Then I turn away from him like his ego isn’t hungry for attention and return to the fun adults.
“With recent news,” I say, “I’ve been thinking. What if we buy an old bus and convert it into a boho RV?”
Thelma lights up like I just handed her a winning lottery ticket.
“That is an amazing idea. We should talk Berik and Freyja into coming too.”
“I was thinking the exact same thing.”
She actually bounces on her toes.
“This is going to be an incredible summer.”
I nod. “Now that we’ve planned our inevitable chaos… we should do our interview.”
“Alright, cher,” Thelma says with a grin. “You two have fun.”
Addam and I settle at a computer with the packet.
“I was born in Portland,” I say, “Friday, May 13.”
“Phoenix,” he answers. “Tuesday, November 15.”
“So you’re about six months older.”
“Seems like it.” He pauses. “If you’re only seventeen, how are you a senior?”
“I skipped fourth grade,” I say. “I’m slated to be valedictorian.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“Okay, that’s impressive.”
I pretend I’m not pleased. “Next question. Free time?”
“Soccer back home. Around here, I’m still figuring it out.” He shrugs. “I play games on my PC and PS4.”
“Nice. Nik and I do Diablo, COD, Back4Blood.”
He smiles. “Same. Plus The Sims 4.”
I actually light up. “I play The Sims too.”
“So we’re nerds.”
“Correct.”
He scans the next question.
“Life goals?”
“Paralegal.”
“That fits you,” he says, like he’s already decided who I am. “I want to be a criminal detective.”
“That’s admirable.”
He laughs. “I mostly like how movies make detectives look cool.”
“Honesty. We love it.” I flip to the next one. “Typical Friday night?”
He hesitates.
“Lately? Home. Games. Movies. By myself.”
The loneliness in his voice is quiet but sharp.
I rest a hand on his shoulder. “If you want, you can hang with us. Me, Nik, Freyja, Cherie. Sometimes Berik’s home too.”
He blinks, then frowns.
“I thought your mother passed?”
“Oh.” I exhale. “I should’ve been clearer. My biological parents died when I was seven. Berik was my nanny. She adopted me after.”
His expression softens.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” I glance down at the packet. “And please don’t put that in your speech.”
“I won’t,” he promises immediately.
We finish the questions with lighter conversation, and by the time the final bell rings, the library feels less like a building and more like a neutral zone.
Nik finds us at the librarian desk a few minutes later.
“Hey, Falencia. What are your birthday plans?”
“I didn’t plan anything,” I admit. “But Berik and Freyja love surprises, so I’m sure something is coming.”
Addam looks genuinely confused.
“You don’t do birthday stuff?”
“Not usually.” I shrug. “I’m not great with crowds. Major social anxiety.”
“That tracks,” he says gently.
Freyja and Cherie arrive right on cue.
“I’m gonna hit the restroom,” I tell them. “Meet you by the car.”
Halfway down the hall, my phone rings.
Sarah - Counselor
“Hey, Sarah.”
“Hey girl. Can we reschedule your appointment? Something came up.”
I smile so fast it’s almost suspicious.
“Yeah, no problem.”
“I’ll call you later today or tomorrow with a new time.”
We hang up, and I finish in the restroom feeling like the universe gave me a tiny birthday coupon.
I’m still riding that rare high when I head toward the parking lot.
That feeling returns.
Eyes on me.
I ignore it.
Bad choice.
As soon as I step outside, Anderson and two of his friends corner me.
I sigh. “This is your big intimidation moment?”
“I told you your lap dogs wouldn’t always be around,” Anderson says.
“I told you I don’t need anyone to fight my battles.” I square my shoulders. “Especially against you, you pathetic excuse of a human.”
His fist swings.
I sidestep.
I catch his arm and twist, forcing him down until he’s just below my height.
“I warned you,” I say, low and deadly. “Don’t fuck with me.”
One of his friends charges like he’s auditioning for a role that requires zero dignity.
I drop Anderson and step back.
The kid reaches for my hair.
I duck and drive a clean kick into his hip, sending him stumbling.
“You brought backup to fight a girl who’s alone and unarmed,” I say. “Two of you still can’t land a hit.”
They circle tighter.
I don’t see Lance until his arm locks around my throat from behind.
My lungs tighten.
I react on instinct.
Step, drop, pivot.
I flip him over my shoulder onto the pavement, and he hits the ground with a wheeze.
Anderson freezes, recalculating.
Then Nik’s voice cuts in.
“You should leave her alone.”
Anderson smirks.
“And if I don’t?”
“I won’t hesitate to remind you what happened last summer,” I say coldly.
“You caught me off guard.”
“That’s hilarious.” I straighten. “I was alone then too. You and these same idiots. You forgot that lesson?”
Something changes in his eyes.
A dark glint that doesn’t feel like normal teenage cruelty.
“I’m going to beat you so bad you’ll beg me to stop.”
I smile without warmth.
“Stop talking like a cartoon villain and swing.”
His fists clench.
Then, like the cowardly classic he is, he snaps, “Wait until I tell my father about this!”
And storms toward his sports car.
I pitch my voice high as he retreats.
“JuSt WaIt UnTiL I tElL mY fAtHeR!”
Justin appears beside Freyja, arms wrapping around her waist.
“What the hell happened?”
“Anderson,” Freyja, Nik, and I say in unison.
“Still?”
I shrug. “I think he’s convinced himself this is romantic or something, because some parents teach boys that tormenting girls is a form of flirting or some bullshit.”
Freyja exhales.
“We should get you to your counseling appointment.”
“Oh!” I grin. “Sarah rescheduled. I’m free.”
Her expression brightens.
“So what now, birthday girl?”
“I was thinking you take me home,” I say, the adrenaline crash finally catching up. “I’m due for a nap.”
